Wordplay
by NeonZangetsu
Summary: Words have power. They can harm or heal. Destroy. Support. Condemn. Inspire. Words can doom a nation, or save it. They can wring tears from a heart of stone. Light fire in the eyes of men. Words are dangerous. Words are a weapon. Written words, even more so. If they're my ally in this world, I just might make it with the Strawhats...I hope. Self-insert. Some romance. Open Pairings?
1. Wordplay

**A/N: *Head meets desk***

 **I have no excuse for writing this. None. I literally. Could not. Help. Myself.**

 **I've already written one self-insert One Piece story—see I Am Not a Pirate—and that's something else entirely. So why, why, WHY am I tempting fate by writing another one when I KNOW it's not my forte?! Do I have a death-wish? Am I suicidal? Am I that eager to put my pride on the line and try another pure One Piece story! Naruto crossovers are my thing, not this! So why...**

 **...WHY DO I FEEL COMPELLED TO WRITE THIS MAD LITTLE TALE?!**

 **Xomniac and Vikingr, I blame you for inspiring me XD**

 **I was even able to get some much-needed advice/guidance from** ** _The_** **Patient One himself in writing this. Thanks to his help I was able to make this story so much more than it could have been. He's been absolutely INSTRUMENTAL in expanding a mere idea of mine into an absolute masterwork, and it's been nothing short of glorious!**

 **Thanks to him, this unorthodox idea gradually gained traction in my mind and became the absolute BEAST of a chapter you see before you.**

 **If someone's tried THIS approach before—that is to say, this particular power and setup—I'll eat my boot! Well, that and I'll be horridly depressed. I can only pray that this humble story receives even a** ** _fifth_** **of the overwhelming popularity "This Bites!" or "Twelve Red Lines" have earned.**

 **I hope to live up to your expectations!**

 **So!**

 **Here we go.**

 **I now present:**

 ** _Wordplay._** **Didn't expect that, did you?**

 _"Note to self! Murphy's law. Do not fuck with it!"_

 _~Ryan D. Swords._

 **Wordplay**

 _A wise man once said words have power._

 _They can harm or heal. Support. Destroy. Inspire. Condemn. Words can save a nation. Or condemn it to destruction. They can wring tears from a heart of stone. Light fire in the eyes of men. Their truth can bring light to darkness; conversely, a lie can plunge everything right back into the black. The tongue has no bones but is strong enough to break a heart. So choose your words carefully. You have to use them wisely; to think before you toss a careless word in anger or grief, lest you lose everything—everyone—you've ever held dear._

 _Words are a weapon._

 _Written words, even more so._

 _"Alright! I think I can call it a night now. That's a fine prologue for another crossover. I'll work on it again tomorrow—"_

 ** _"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"_**

 _HeywaitwhatareyouDOING?!_

* * *

 _(...Scene Break...)_

* * *

 _Hrrk...just five more minutes...dry and gravelly...why is it so hot...?_

My shift back to the land of the living wasn't a gradual shift by any means; nor could it be called a pleasant one in any way. One moment I'd been happily dozing in what I _assumed_ to be warm, contented bliss, albeit with a somewhat scratchy sensation teasing the tip of my tongue. Ignoring _that_ sensation, I flopped over and tried to inhale. That soon proved to be a mistake.

Sand!

IN MY!

 _ **THROOOAAAT!**_

"PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!"

...and in the next, reality decided to drop-kick me upside the head as someone shoved a gallon of powdered stone into my lungs.

I flailed upright with a shout, thrashing like an angry bull. In my haste to stand, I must've moved a little too fast; because my legs buckled and I found myself flopping back onto the bank with a gasp. And then, quite suddenly, there was pain. To say that it hurt would've been an understatement. I felt an explosive ache in every muscle; not just my side, but my very being, feeling as though I'd been stretched a dozen different ways. As though the very core of my being had been pulled apart, compacted, stretched again, and stitched back together like a modern-day-Frankenstein.

It was, in a word, unpleasant.

It took all I had just to squint at the searing sun overhead.

"All right," I growled, "Did anybody get the number of that bitch?"

A hot breeze slapped me across the face in recompense for my temerity.

"...I'll take that as a no?"

If the wind could've laughed, I suspected it would have belted out a loud one just then.

I lay there for a long moment, chest heaving madly—why in blazes did it feel so heavy?—sucking in great gasps of scorching air, struggling to catch my breath and dislodge the last of the grainy material from my throat. To say that I failed spectacularly would've been an understatement. I didn't know what had happened, where I was, or how I'd found myself there. Rather, _here_ , if the gritty grains against my back was any indication. My last coherent memory was one of happily typing away at a keyboard; of someone tapping me on the shoulder, then...

...nothing but darkness.

Wait.

One.

Minute.

 _Sand?_

After a brief bought with gravity, I managed to raise my head and survey my surroundings in spite of my tattered attire.

Rather than a cool breeze and gentle waves lapping at my feet—because wouldn't that just be peachy keen?—I found a land of arid dunes stretched out before me. A veritable sea of sand, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Had that been all, my spirits might've remained somewhat intact. Instead, they plummeted with each passing moment. Nothing. No sign of civilization, nor a glimpse of the sea. Just...sand. Endless sand accompanied the scorching heat beating down on my head. That laughter I thought I'd imagined earlier? It sounded all-too-real now. With each passing second, it only grew louder.

Groaning, I climbed—crawled, really—back to my feet. A muscle jumped in my jaw.

Then a cross-popping vein grew out of my forehead, one my hand immediately slapped upward against.

At that moment, a single horrified thought encapsulated my existence; and it wasn't a pleasant one by any means.

"Oh, no. Nooooononono! Hell no!" Flinging my hands up, I shook my fist and raged at the unresponsive heavens. "Absolutely not! Did you just drop me in _fucking One Piece?!_ You already did this shit to Xomniac! I want no part of this! Is this Alabasta?! Because IF IT IS—"

 _THUNK!_

As though summoned by that very outburst, a _sign_ of all things slammed into the sandy soil at my feet with a meaty thwack. For a moment, I boggled at it with my hands flung up to protect my admittedly vulnerable face. I hadn't been expecting an _answer_ when I'd railed at the...hmm. Did the One Piece universe _have_ a god? I wondered about that. Random deities were one thing, but if I was actually having a pissing contest with whatever stranded me here...

The words that awaited me made me think otherwise.

 **"Tough shit, bitch."**

...I can't rightly say why, but I got the distinct impression that my kidnapper was of the female persuasion. Part of me was almost amused; the rest...slightly horrified. How else could a sign literally _radiate_ smugness?! I want to state for the record that I reacted appropriately and hollered my fury to heavens.

"YOU SEND ME BACK RIGHT NOW, WOMAN! I'm not equipped for this!"

Needless to say, the sky didn't answer.

The heat, however, did.

 _With a vengeance._

My body chose that moment to remind me that yes, I'd been standing the middle of the desert for the better part of five minutes now—who knew how long I'd been out before that—and no, despite my frantic shouting, or perhaps because of it, my surroundings had yet to change. Shit. I'm just a writer! What kind of random god/goddess asshat thought it was a good idea to drop me headlong into a country in the middle of _a freaking revolution?!_ Oh, that was a whole other can of worms right there, let me tell you! Some might call that viewpoint selfish, but at the moment I was more concerned with not dying of thirst!

Wait, there was a weight on my shoulders...

...which meant I'd come to this world with my backpack! Yes! Score!

Unfortunately?

Said backpack was presently _empty,_ sans my journal a handful of unfinished novels, and one of college prep book. Well! I wouldn't be writing that essay now, would I? A snake of dread coiled in my stomach, tying my guts into a knot. A cursory search of my pockets turned up similar results; nothing useful beyond a few crumpled bills and my smartphone...which had no charge to speak of. For a second, I thought I saw the reflective surface flicker under the harsh light, only to vanish when I gazed directly into its screen.

 _Fuuuuuuuuuck._

Smacking my already-dry lips, I glanced reluctantly at the sky.

"I, ah, don't suppose you'd be willing to provide me a canteen or—"

A particularly dry breeze wilted the words on my tongue.

"Tch! Fine!" Slamming my (broken?) phone back into my pocket, I slung my pack over my shoulders and fixed the cloudless sky with the most menacing glower I could muster in my present circumstances. "I don't need your help! I'll find a way out my own! You'll see! Just you wait!"

Huffing, and for lack of any other option, I picked a direction and began walking.

North, I hoped.

 _'I'm doomed!'_

Alas, with nothing but my gut as my guide, I soon found myself lost in my thoughts. A self-insert story. It just _had_ to be one of those, didn't it? Why me? Again, I don't claim to be anything special. Just your average fellow...albeit one with an overactive imagination. I wasn't particularly strong nor agile, I performed reasonably well at my job and earned enough to pay my bills. If there was one thing I held _some_ measure of confidence in, it was my ability to write. Shame I couldn't write myself out of this.

A desert.

 _Why_ did it have to be a desert?

Morbid as it might sound, if I had to choose my demise, I would've _happily_ jumped in a snow drift or dunked myself in ice water. Cold was easy; everything went numb after awhile. You just...slipped away. Anything was preferable to the slow roast I now found myself subjected to— _stop!_ Think cold thoughts! Heat is the enemy! Resist! Fight!

But how does one fight the air?

Still, the searing temperature beat down against my head as I trudged ever forward. But what other recourse did I have? To stop meant death. Looking back, I couldn't say how I knew this; only that I did, and that thought spurred me forward. But even faith can only drive you for so long. I'm not ashamed to say I started to lose hope after the second hour. With nothing beyond my battered pack for shade, I found myself exposed to the elements in the worst of ways and my admittedly meager reserves began to flag.

Despite the heat exhaustion, I somehow managed to spur myself forward. Step after faltering step, spurred on by the fleeting hope of civilization, only to be denied time and time again. For all my hopes, they too proved themselves to be a mirage.

Finally, just when I'd abandoned all pretense of making it out alive...

"Ack!"

...I tripped.

Now, I know what you're thinking. How can you possibly trip when there's nothing but sand hereabouts? Actually, you'd be surprised _—Not the point!_ In any case, my foot caught something, and I went down in a tumble of arms and legs. Dusty soil greeted my face, and I coughed, snarling as I sprawled into the ground.

Belatedly I realized what had tripped me.

Not a puddle, of course, that would be too lucky. Rather, a lack thereof. An empty, arid dish consisting of cracked soil, framed by the shriveled stump of what might've been a tree, once. Ah. This must've been an oasis, once. Perhaps even recently. Before the rains ceased. Despite my best efforts, my heart clenched. Crocodile's work. While I had no idea as to the whereabouts of the current timeline, that still didn't stop me from wanting to shove my foot firmly up his—

I raised my gaze and found myself staring at a fruit.

A simple, if colorful pear, hanging against a withered stem.

I confess, I momentarily found myself at something of a loss, then.

...fuck it.

In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. In hindsight, can you really blame me?

It looked like a prickly pear—and that's asking me to think of an old movie—and given my starving state, I didn't think twice. It couldn't be a Devil Fruit, I told myself. Not even one of _those_ could possibly survive this kind of heat. And if it was, at the risk of breaking the fourth wall, why me? I hadn't had any character development yet. But if by some chance it was...well if I didn't eat/drink _something_ soon I was going to die from exposure. I didn't want to die. Rather fond of living, you see. That and the idea of becoming a shriveled-up corpse didn't appeal to me.

Therefore, the solution was painfully obvious.

"Down the hatch!" In a heartbeat, I ripped the fruit from the strange, cylindrical stem and—praying it wasn't poisonous or what I suspected it to be—crammed the whole thing into my mouth. I nearly choked in the doing, but somehow I managed to work my jaw around the fruit and start chewing. Needless to say...

...mistakes were made.

The flavor hit like a truck.

 _Nope, fuck this shit! We're out!_

My taste buds revolted and joined my tongue in a bitter civil war; one that threatened to tear my stomach to shreds. Oh, God! The taste! I couldn't even begin to describe it; there was no word too foul, no adjective worthy to describe the feeling of complete and utter _slime_ running down the back of my throat. I choked, my hands flying to my neck even as I struggled to master the bile in my mouth. It took all I had just to swallow; even that threatened to strip me of my strength. My knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed on the spot as my fingers raked themselves bloody across the arid soil, my very being spasming in agony.

Devil Fruit!

Definitely a Devil Fruit!

 _Why_ did I think it was a good idea to...oh _...stars..._

I must've blacked out at some point; when I came to, my face had become intimate with the sand in a way _no_ self-respecting individual desired, and my tongue had all but glued itself to the roof of my mouth. I wasn't sure how much time passed after that. Minutes? Hours? Days? Surely it couldn't have been that long; the heat would've rendered me little more than a prune by then. Some small part of me railed against the idea, demanding that I do something; that I stand, move, _anything_ but lay there. For all my efforts, I could barely lift a finger. A stab of misery thrust its way through my gut, and I felt something break inside me.

 _Water._

Just a drop.

 _Water._

Just a handful.

 _Water._

Just enough to quench my thirst.

 _Water._

On a whim, I traced a bloodied finger against the sand, carving the word into the broken soil. Looking back, I don't know why I put the idea in my head. Perhaps it was a severe case of heat stroke; one final desperate effort by my body, a last frantic attempt to soothing the raging desert in my throat. I didn't know. Didn't care. I could _feel_ myself hanging on the precipice of life or death; a stiff breeze would surely knock me right through that door. Not like this. I didn't want to die here. I felt only...felt...

My hand felt _...wet._

Bleary eyes rose to regard it.

A small pool of _water_ awaited my gaze, awkwardly scrawled out against the shifting sands by my twitching hand. Somehow, against all odds, I'd found it. Brackish and warm perhaps, little more than a puddle, but water nonetheless. Without a second thought, I slammed my face into it and drank greedily. In doing so, I inhaled a fair bit of wet sand; yet in the doing, I felt a sliver of energy crawl back into my depleted veins. I considered it an even trade. Even dirty water was a tender mercy compared to the hellish heat I'd been enduring.

If the burning heat hell of Impel Down was worse than this, I had no desire ever to visit it.

My mind snapped back like a rubber band, and I turned wide eyes back on the now-mangled word I'd scrawled. Either this was the mother of all fever dreams, or I'd finally lost what remained of my mind. Once more, now with great care, I etched the word into the sand. This...this was a hallucination. It had to be. I couldn't simply create something just by writing...

 _"W-a-t-e-r."_

Something shifted within me as I traced that bloody digit against the sand. Sure enough, as I looked on, the word dissolved into a small puddle of liquid. Warily, I dipped a finger into its surface and placed it against my lips. The cool balm of fresh water graced my tongue, followed by a disbelieving croak. It was almost too good to be true. Once more I experienced that strange smugness I'd felt before...the same that had stemmed from that damnable sign. A delirious laugh burst out of me before I could think to stop myself and I buried my head in the sand.

"Are you kidding me?!"

What kind of fruit was this?!

The Word-Word Fruit or something?

 _'I'm not going to laugh. Its just...too ironic!'_

On a whim, I sketched something else. Another word.

The only thing that was arguably more important than water when you were stranded the way I was...

"M-i-r-r-o-r."

Sure enough, the sands hardened and coalesced beneath my palm and a crude pane of glass formed within. Not perfect by any means, but serviceable. A sea of possibilities swam before me, and I nearly drowned in them immediately. This...it was almost too good to be true. A fruit based on words? The power to create? I couldn't have asked for a better ability if I'd handpicked one from the damn catalog! Again, I felt like laughing, and I would have, too, were it not for the sight of my reflection.

My face glared back at me, drawing a grimace.

While on the topic of anatomy, I would like to state for the record that I'm the picture of health. Not terribly tall, but neither short. Adequate. Average, both of height and build. In terms of clothing, I nominally favored a long-sleeved red shirt and dark khakis. What?! You try living with winter in North Dakota and not bundling up!—and today was no exception. Really, my only _unique_ feature would be my piercing green eyes and dark hair. Not something I'm entirely proud of, given my heritage, but there you go. Eh, semantics!

Enough about me!

Back to my thoughts on my current appearance:

"Jeez, I've seen better days..."

Groaning, I lifted an arm and strained to let the reflective surface catch the light. It might be useless for all I knew, but something in me insisted I make the attempt. Maybe it caught the sun. Maybe it didn't. The next few hours were dedicated to...experiments. Glorious, glorious experiments. For science! Water. Water. WATER! I scrawled the word over and over, heedless of the consequences. I think I might've put a certain gaseous scientist to shame with my cackling. That, and the small—if dirty—oasis I inadvertently created. Was this a miracle? Surely there had to be a drawback of some sort or a limit? Maybe a _ohhhhhhhh there it was._

Then came the fatigue.

 _'Nooooononono!'_

Like a mountain crashing down against my shoulders, so too did I collapse against the soaked sand. Did I say I'd been exhausted before? No? This was true exhaustion. Every cell in my body, united in a singular sentiment. I could scarcely lift my head, much less speak. Well. This was problematic...

"And what do we have here?"

A harsh crunch against my ears drew an equally harsh cringe.

By some miracle, I managed to raise my gaze and behold my would-be rescuers. Against all hope, I'd almost expected to find a friendly face waiting for me when I did.

Instead, I found my would-be allies...

...riding an alligator.

 _...what._

Wait, wasn't that an accelegator? Didn't Robin ride one of those back in Alabasta? Huh, I mused blearily. It really _did_ have a banana on its head. Tail, too. For some reason, I found that funny. A mad giggle trailed out of my lips, only to be stifled by the sand. Huh. Was that a boot? Looked like it. One I recognized dead away, if only because I noticed the owner of said boot. And the cowboy hat. Because really, who _else_ wore an outfit like that much less with...

Oda's art really hadn't done them justice.

Unfortunately, her companion inspired nothing short of apoplectic dread.

I immediately found myself reminded of an Italian mob boss. His slicked-back hair, the stark scar standing out against his grey skin, those dead eyes, and of course, that vicious golden _hook._ Even his attire resembled what I remembered; from his signature black-buttoned vest, brown suited pants, right down to those polished black shoes and long, thick, dark pelted fur coat. As if he stepped out of the manga and into real life. That gilded hook of his seemed to writhe and twist in the light, and despite myself, I gulped.

Say what you would about Capone Bege and his gangster motif, but he had _nothing_ on Crocodile.

"Now, then." His deep, resonant voice sent a chill shooting down my spine. "Who are you?"

Despite the inherent dread I felt, I somehow managed a sickly smile.

 _...I was going to have one hell of a story if I survived this._

 **A/N: Now to clarify, this essentially takes place at the start of Canon itself.**

 **In other words, Luffy's only just set out on his adventure. Meaning I won't be meeting them immediately...but it'll happen...**

 **...and I just got myself roped into more madness.**

 **I think I just got rescued by Baroque Works.**

 **Against my bloody will, I might add!**

 ***blushes furiously***

 **Oh, I've gone and done it now. I've officially leaped headlong into the madness of One Piece. I longed to do things differently, to throw my own spin on things, you know? In the end, I chose this route, and I hope to God you're all happy with it because I spent a helluva long time agonizing over this. If Xomniac's "Soundbite" is a veritable god of noise/anarchy and Vikingr's "Jones" relies on kinetic energy to get the job done, well, I want to take the road less traveled...**

 **...gosh darn it, I choose to be a God of Words.**

 **So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...**

 **...Review, Would you kindly?**

 **No lengthy previews!**

 **Only short ones!**

 **(Previews)**

 _A golden hook loomed large before my vision._

 _"Well, you have two choices then, Swords. Join or die."_

 _Urk._

 _"Join it is, then..._

 _...for now.' I swore._

 _Crocodile offered a rictus of a grin._

 _"A wise choice. Now then, about your ability..._

 _I'd seen that bone-chilling smile before and I knew all too well what it meant..._

 _Bastard must've seen my fear, because that smile only widened. "I think I have a use for it."_

* * *

 _A fist snapped out, firing me into a building._

 _"Shitshitshit!"_

* * *

 _A desert strawberry spider...?_

 _"Okay, maybe if I write this, you'll calm down..._

 _Nope._

 _The little creature rapidly slashed its legs at me in what I could only assume was an unflattering gesture—no, wait, I recognized that one. If you told me yesterday I'd find myself flipped off by a spider of all things, I would've decked them on the spot._

 _"Suppose Charlotte would be too on the nose..._

 _...wordspider?"_

 _An anagram, them?_

 _"Pridesword?"_

 _The little creature preened._

 _"Wait, you are a girl, aren't you—DONOTSPRINGATME!"_

 **R &R~!**


	2. When in Doubt

**A/N: Well, well! it seems the first chapter got a rather positive reception after all!**

 **Thanks for that!**

 **I was grappling with depression while writing this, so I do apologize for taking so long. In case any of you didn't know I'm...well, not quite right in the head. I'm still semi-functional mind you, but some days are better than others and at times it feels like my mind is going; I'm not even that old, so that's a chilling notion.**

 **Scary thought, eh?**

 **And as ever, a thousand thanks to The Patient One for helping me write this. I wouldn't have gotten very far all without him. Really helps to have someone to bounce your ideas off of, you know? Well, n** **ow, I know I mentioned this takes place at the start of canon, but only _just._ Meaning that while Luffy _may_ have only recently set out for the sea, we all know how quickly time unfolds out there.**

 **But, *spoilers* we'll be meeting them before long.**

 **Also, for those that disliked it, that italic intro won't be happening again in this story, no worries. It was only meant to describe what I'd been up to before a random B.R.O.B decided to drop me headfirst into an adventure.**

 **Now, in the shared words of The Patient One and NeonZangetsu, here's a bit of a description towards the Word-Word Fruit and some of its abilities:**

 _The user can make something out of thin air, but that takes a lot of energy, far more than a novice can manage. The size of the word determines how much power goes into it; this means both the number of letters and the size that you write it as. The neatness of the writing determines how fine the control of the result is; scrawling "flame" would make an erratic blaze while calligraphy of the same word would produce something strong yet controlled. The ink quality also matters: blood is far more potent and less energy-expending than simple ink, and makeup that's hard to remove would be stronger than simple ink as well. Tattoos, likewise. The effects weaken as the words fade._

 _Different parts of speech have different rules; for example, nouns and adjectives only affect the person, area, or thing upon which the user writes them._ _Some words require more direction to have any effect at all; for example, writing 'picture' without context wouldn't do anything unless the user wrote something else alongside it. W_ _riting in the air is a no-go unless you have a sparkler or something that writes them in smoke; otherwise, the user needs to focus on a solid surface, i.e. the ground._

 _The energy corresponds to the outcome, and stronger synonyms have greater power. For example, spark, flame, blaze, inferno. Drop, trickle, stream, cascade, torrent._

 _Physical changes are much less energy-consuming to cause than mental ones; attempting to alter someone's mind without their consent would require the user to overpower the subject's willpower_ _. The same goes for their life; writing 'DEAD' or 'DIE' on someone would only have the desired effect if they were weak or weakened. On a strong person, it would at best make them mildly ill, though it would have_ some _effect until the subject no longer has the word on them._

 **And there we have it!**

 **In short, it's a powerful ability, but only if you're careful with it.**

 **Now then, onto the story~!**

 _"Me? I'm not a musician. I'm a storyteller. Nothing better. After all, words have power. Its all in how you use them."_

 _~Ryan D. Swords._

 **When in Doubt...**

For the second time in as many days, I woke with no recollection of where I was.

Mercifully, it was to a sustained _absence_ of heat this time around. In place of the searing sands I'd feared to be my tomb, I stirred to find my back pressed against cool stone. Well. That was a cold comfort.

Thank you, thank you very much! I'll be here all day!

Blackened humor aside, it wasn't hard to figure out where I was. I didn't know why I was surprised; while Nico Robin might be a future Straw Hat, Crocodile wasn't the sort to save someone out of the kindness of his heart. If he even had one. It didn't help that my last coherent memory before I passed out of heat and exhaustion...heat exhaustion, was of said sandy snake sneering at me as though _I_ were a gold-plated investment.

"Right," I groaned, "time to face the music..."

Opening my eyes, I confirmed that I had simply exchanged one deadly situation for another. A low roof greeted my vision, dense and aloof to the touch, and when I turned to the side, I saw that I was in a cage. Beyond the bars of which was a room showing off an abundance of opulent blue stone, polished furniture, and windows that gave a look at the water on the other side. As I observed one, I noticed a massive yellowish-green reptile swim by, leering at me as it passed.

 _Bananagator._

Despite the thick pane of glass between me and the beast, I shivered. If that creature got it in its head to eat me...

...well, I didn't want to finish that thought.

For a moment I gawped at it, unable to believe my eyes.

Well, there went any doubt; I was at Crocodile's secret base in Rain Dinners. Had that been all, I _might've_ been able to quell the rising dread in the pit of my stomach and muster some sort of plan. But dangling just beyond the bars, a great banquet awaited me, sprawled out across a grand table. A veritable feast that looked to be crafted by the finest chefs the world over. An unseen breeze caught the aroma and wafted it towards me. My stomach growled at me in bitter complaint; a not-so-subtle reminder that I hadn't eaten in hours. Now, I don't claim to the sharpest tool in the shed, but I knew a carrot when I saw one.

So where was the stick?

More importantly, could I reach that banquet?

Tentatively, I reached out one of my hands to touch a side of the cage. My rational brain reasoned I couldn't possibly get to it, but I'd never been one to listen to logic before, so why start now? No, I found myself spitting in the face of reason like a stark raving lunatic and striving for that which lay beyond my reach.

"Urk! Mistakes were made!"

The moment my fingers so much as _brushed_ the bars I felt an overwhelming exhaustion slam through every cell of my body. No, this went beyond exhaustion. Every muscle in my body suddenly clamped down at once, leaving me to hang against the bars lie a puppet severed from its strings. Urk. I felt ill. Even in my inebriated stated it didn't take long for my brain to make the connection. So _that_ was what sea prism stone felt like. All told, I couldn't say I was glad of the realization; it meant the last few hours likely weren't a fever dream, which meant...

"You're awake _. Good."_

As I slumped, a flicker of movement beyond the table caught my attention.

"Who's there?"

Harsh, staccato laughter greeted my inquiry.

Say what you will about Crocodile but he can be a right sneaky bastard when he wants to be. I didn't even see him enter the room, much less Nico Robin, trailing in behind him. I couldn't even call it a walk; more a leisurely, stroll, one that ended with the two of them taking a seat at the very banquet I'd been trying to reach. Perhaps they'd been there all along, and I'd simply failed to notice them. Perhaps I was still hallucinating. Perhaps I was about to die.

Spirits, this was gong to _suck._

"Oh, dear." an elegant voice dashed itself against my morose thoughts. "You must be starving. Here."

As if to defy that very statement, a familiar hand sprouted on the table and flung a banana in my face. My hand snapped up of its own volition before I could think to stop it, nimbly catching the fruit as it sailed between the bars-nice accuracy, Robin!-to smack against my open palm. In a heartbeat I peeled and devoured it with the ferocity of an alligator.

 _...I know there's a pun somewhere in there, but I'm not going to take it for granted.'_

"Seems you can understand us, after all." Crocodile's deep, resonant voice grated against my already battered eardrums, a golden hook looming large before my still-clearing vision. "And it seems my suspicions were correct: you're a Devil Fruit user, aren't you?"

My expression must've been telling, for Crocodile stared at me, waiting for a response. After a few seconds, he folded his arms. Somehow that simple gesture filled me with dread; not only did it put his prominent gold hook-which I knew to be full of poison beneath its gilded coat-on fully display, but faced with that scope of sheer scope of presence, I found myself more than a touch intimidated. Although, speaking of intimidation...did Crocodile have Haki? They'd never particularly elaborated on that.

Whatever the case, I found myself gritting my teeth against the words that threatened to leap from my lips.

"You don't have to answer me." As if he'd sensed that very thought, his grin grew almost imperceptibly. Then again, I don't _have_ to let you out of this cage. There's no need for this conversation, either. " He hadn't so much as risen from that chair, but I knew that bone-chilling tone all-too-well. "If you're so keen on your silence, I can just leave you here." The implied threat hung over my head like a guillotine.

A muscle jumped in my jaw.

On some level I knew the bastard was trying to provoke me; he'd said that just to rile me up. Or scare me, one of the two. And as much as I was loathe to admit it, he had a point; at this point, my recalcitrance would only earn me a slow, wasting death of starvation. Needless to say I wasn't keen on that.

"...What do you want with me?" I managed to say.

Was it so wrong that I wanted to smack the smug smile off his face?

"Answers, first of all. Who are you and what were you doing alone in the desert?"

...Simple enough, no real reason not to tell the truth there.

"My name is Ryan Swords." I delivered the words in a monotone reply, refusing to reveal just how badly he'd rattled me. "And...trying to survive, I guess."

"Trying to survive?" Crocodile repeated dryly.

Robin chuckled softly.

"I believe he implied that, yes."

 _'Oi! Not help, Nico Robin! Not helping at all!'_

...I'd forgotten what an absolute instigator the future Strawhat could be. Theoretically, I knew enough about Crocodile to convince him it was in his best interest keeping me alive. In theory. As villains went, his motives were relatively ease to understand; if you were of use to him, he wouldn't kill you. Fail him...well...images of Mr. 3's near death escape flitted through my mind. Somehow, I doubted I'd be as fortunate if the Shichibukai got it in his head to feed me to his pets. The absolute last thing I needed was a certain archaeologist running interference solely for the sake of her own amusement!

And at that stupidly skeptical smug voice, my exasperation at the whole situation got the better of me.

"I don't know!" I exclaimed, throwing up my arms with a snarl. "One moment I was minding my own business, writing my next story. The next, someone knocked me out and dropped me in the wastes! If I hadn't eaten that damn fruit I would've been a shriveled-up _corpse_ by the time you found me!"

A slender brow rose in grim triumph.

" _Novice_ Devil Fruit user, then?"

 _Shit._

"Erm, I assume...?"

"Assume?"

...alright, I officially hate people repeating what I said in that _dry_ voice.

"I was starving in the middle of the desert, so I ate a weird-looking prickly pear that I found. Might've been a hallucination." Not quite the truth, but it was plausible considering my circumstances. After all, what were the chances of encountering a Devil Fruit in the desert? It seemed so absurd as to be nonsensical; then again, what could be more absurd than landing in a world of fiction? Honestly, it was almost too good to be true!

More to the point, I was still sort of hoping that it _was._

Even if this turned out to be some kind of fever dream-which I very much doubted judging by the pitiful wail of my stomach-this was...well, it was almost fun. I'd forgotten what it felt like to engage in a battle of wits with someone; even if said someone could slaughter me seven ways to sunday without so much as lifting a finger.

"One that lets you manipulate water, I assume?" Crocodile persisted.

"Well..."

"If you know the first thing about Devil Fruits," Robin cut in from nearby. "You know that submergence in water is the weakness of all users. Precious few are able to turn the element to their advantage. So how did you?"

Crocodile's expression had shown a bit of annoyance at Robin's interruption, but he seemed to dismiss it after a few seconds. Probably nothing he wouldn't have said himself. Sighing, I closed my eyes and wrinkled my brow in an honest attempt to remember what happened. The two strongest memories jumped out first, both dancing across my tongue. I felt my face contort in disgust.

"...You're wrong, you know. The first thing to know about Devil Fruits is that they taste horrible," I shuddered as a phantom taste lingered on my tongue, spurred by memory.

"Conceded," Robin agreed calmly. "Continue."

Something changed in her eyes, then.

Was that a smile, just now?

Pity, perhaps?

"Mmm...I was getting close to passing out from the heat." By now I'd abandoned all pretense of slouching against the wall of my "cell" and straightened myself up as much as my battered body could muster. It assuaged the tattered scraps of my pride enough to continue, at any rate. "Water was the only thing on my mind...some nutty part of my mind had me trace the word out in the sand. And then water appeared. I tried it again...and again until I burned myself out."

"...Did you create that glass the same way?" Crocodile asked, a touch of intrigue coloring his words.

Ah.

Interest.

Now there was something I could use.

"I traced out 'mirror' in the sand; don't remember a lot from survival simulations, but I remember how much a mirror can help." A flash of insight struck me, one I carefully tucked away before it could reveal itself on my stony face. Blood. I'd written the words in the sand to be sure, but that had been after I'd bloodied my hand. Did the ability require ink? Or blood? Could I trace the words on a solid surface without either? Questions bombarded me like cannonfire and I shoved them aside, resolving to test those theories later...

...assuming I survived.

"A Devil Fruit that turns words into reality...the Word-Word Fruit, perhaps?" Robin asked, a gleam of curiosity winking in her gaze.

"That's my guess," I shrugged, grimacing as the rags of my shirt protested against the sudden movement. "I know a lot of Devil Fruits, but I never heard of this one."

 _"Is that so?"_

A rush of dry wind nearly shattered my confidence.

As I looked on Crocodile rose from his seat. It was like watching a towering dune sliding into motion, uncaring of its surroundings. In a rush of sand he vanished, reappearing well within arms reach, yet just beyond the bars between us. The near feral gleam in his scowl was all that held me back from a sharp retort. Somehow I'd angered him; that or I'd pushed his suspension of disbelief too far, too fast.

The hook tipped beneath my chin suggested the latter.

"You expect me to believe that someone stupid enough to go out in the desert alone," his voice emerged as a low, questioning growl, "Without robes, without water, without anything to survive, knows about 'a lot of Devil Fruits'?"

...I knew he was trying to anger me. Probing my defenses, trying to ferret out what secrets I knew in an attempt; to get me to spill some vital piece of information. But that knowledge wasn't quite enough to stop me from giving him what he wanted. My mind bleated out a terrified note of raw, bowel-voiding fear, but there in the symphony something lilted higher. Anger. Against my better judgement, I _slowly_ nudged Crocodile's gilded appendage away from my neck and stood. It took every fiber of my being merely to meet his gaze, not to flinch in the face of a being capable of snuffing out my life with nary I thought.

 _And I smiled._

"Bitch, I am a walking encyclopedia." Many a time I've been told my grin was unnerving, judging by the slight grimace the warlord adopted, that fact held true in this world as much as the last. "I could name your Devil Fruit and cowgirl's over there in a hot minute!"

Crocodile's eyes narrowed. "I don't recall saying that I had a Devil Fruit."

This time, thankfully, I had an answer prepared. Even better, I had every reason to say it dryly.

"Sir Crocodile of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, formerly worth ฿81 million, empowered by the Logia-type Sand-Sand Fruit." I rattled off with a sardonic smile, "You're kind of famous."

Crocodile snorted in annoyance.

Robin's laugh was so soft I had to strain to hear her; but hear her I did, and this time, I didn't let her keep the upper hand.

"As for her, Nico Robin, worth ฿79 million, charged with destroying six battleships at the age of six." Quick as a bullet, I adopted a scholar-like tone and rounded on the tanned-woman to thrust a damning finger in her direction. "Wielder of the Flower Flower fruit. Also noteworthy."

Robin's expression hardened slightly, but she gave no other response...until I spoke again.

Memory supplied my answer, any true One Piece fan would remember what Crocodile had intended for this country...and his ultimate goal.

"Funny that she's here with you, though," I quipped, pressing myself as close to the bars as I dared. "Pretty sure a Warlord shouldn't be trying to conquer a country. Seems...unwise."

I expected anger, then.

What I received was cold indifference.

Somehow, the dead look in those eyes proved all the more fearsome.

"You certainly know more than you should, I'll give you that." Once more, that hook rose in silent warning. "Do you want me to kill you that badly?"

"On the contrary." Steeling my spine, I forced my face into a mask of neutrality and spread my arms in a shrug. "The World Government is a corrupt organization that frowns on freedom and enforces their status quo with an iron fist, up to and including using their battleships to blow away an island."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Robin stiffen. My eyes focused on Crocodile's as I went on. "You have my interest if you're interested in tearing them a new one."

"Bold words; have you considered they might've been the ones to dump you in the desert in the first place?" That scared face twitched in a dark rictus of a smile. "Seems they weren't too fond of that mouth of yours."

Outwardly, I forced a smile.

Inwardly, I winced.

No way in hell.

Nope.

If I cracked and revealed how I'd _truly_ wound up here to Crocodile of all people...let's just say I wasn't willing to risk it. If this bastard learned even a _third_ of what I knew he'd ruin everything. Worse, if he took it upon himself to have me tortured for said information, I wasn't sure how long I'd last. Strong-willed I might be, but I wasn't sure how long I could endure being brought to death's door before breaking. Right, I'd go with that excuse for now and pray he never caught on to the true depth of my knowledge. I fought down a small shudder and recited a silent mantra to myself. _Just smile and wave boys, smile and wave..._

I would let Crocodile make his own assumptions; let him believe he had my loyalty, when the truth was anything but.

And when the time came, I'd drop him like a hot potato.

"All the more reason to kick their sorry asses then." I riposted sharply. "If you're looking to give them a black eye, sign me up."

Again, that slight stiffening of Robin's shoulders caught my eye, but only just.

Crocodile slowly smirked. "You've got guts if nothing else, brat."

Oh nooooononono! Not this shtick!

"I'm not a brat." I momentarily made the mistake of grasping the bars to pull myself closer, only to recoil with a shudder. "Ugh, damn seastone! I'm in my twenties, damnit!"

The smug bastard didn't even pretend to hear what I'd said.

"Well, then." Leaning back, the warlord adopted a flinty expression. His good hand lingered over the curved arch of his hook and I couldn't help but follow the movement. My chest tightened as I braced myself for that telltale sting of scorpion venom. Honestly, I half-expected him to eliminate me solely on principle. As such, I found myself somewhat flatfooted by the offer that followed. "Considering the knowledge you've accumulated, I'll give you two choices, Swords. You can join me...or rot in this cell for the rest of your days."

Urk.

My stomach roiled.

Pain flared in my jaw as the muscles there clenched.

Despite all my frantic planning, I nearly refused him on principle.

I didn't _want_ to join Baroque Works; if I had my way, I'd much rather be a Strawhat, or barring that, set off on my own. The notion of joining a group of killers and assassins nearly made me ill. These people-even Robin before she'd been reformed-would gladly kill, use, or slaughter anyone who dared stand in their way. Of course, I was no stranger to violence, but still...did I really want this? Was I willing to throw away my pride just to survive long enough to find an out? Would things even play out as they had in canon?

 _'Luffy's gonna kick his ass, Luffy's gonna kick his ass, Luffy's gonna kick his ass..._

"Join it is, then...

...for now.' I swore.

Crocodile offered a rictus of a grin.

"A wise choice. Now then, about your ability..."

I'd seen that bone-chilling smile before and I knew all too well what it meant...

Bastard must've seen my fear because that smile only widened. "Once it's trained up, I think I have a use for it."

"Can I get something to eat, first?" I croaked.

"Ha! Fair enough."

The faintest glint of metal caught my eye; damnit, I hadn't even seen Crocodile move. Was he always this fast. Before I knew it, he'd inserted the key into the lock and opened the door for me. An arm hung out to the side, beckoning me to depart. Mechanically, I followed him, cursing myself for every step. The leering smile that followed sent a silent shiver shooting down my spine. Not one of fear, but the realization that I might've made a terrible mistake just now. I had no notion of the timeline, only that we clearly hadn't reached the Alabasta arc yet. Running wasn't an option, no, not yet. Not with my still-limited skillset. No, I'd bound myself to a devil and now I would have to see this through. It was this, or death.

You couldn't live to fight another day if you were dead.

For better or worse, my fate was sealed until the Strawhats found their way here. But worse than that...

 _"Welcome to Baroque Works."_

...what have I done?

 **A/N: And there we go. In the end I decided to save the spider bit for later, with this chapter being so dialogue heavy. Crocodile and Robin were an absolute treat to write; while I might not like the former all that much, he's a damn terrifying villain when he wants to be. Add in the fact that he's one of the few who actually came close to killing Luffy. Not once, but twice. Had he been a touch more thorough, our favorite rubberman might not have survived Alabasta at all.**

 **As for Robin, she's simply one of my favorite characters to begin with.**

 **Now, moving beyond that, this is where the story starts to go off the rails; ripples spread out from this event, gradual changes leading to big ones and whatnot.** **Let's just say my arrival in Alabasta is going to wreak some BIG changes, as the text below hints.**

 **So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...**

 **...Review, Would you kindly?**

 **No lengthy previews!**

 **Only short ones!**

 **(Previews)**

 _"I have a job for you, Mr. 2."_

 _Bon Clay stiffened._

 _"You want me to do some digging on our new recruit, Zero-chan?"_

 _...you might say that. There's something about him that's been bothering me."_

 _Note to self. The boss's present expression was one he never wanted to see again. Not if he could help it. There was something remarkably...concerning about that smile. He didn't even appear angry; if anything the Logia's smile was so slight as to nearly be invisible in its own right._

 _It was the eyes that terrified Bon Clay so._

 _Like a giant, looming predator._

 _"Start with the East Blue."_

* * *

 _"You're a fool, Swords."_

 _"Maybe, but this fool made you laugh."_

 _...fair enough. I'll concede that point to you, then."_

 **R &R~!**


End file.
